


Mage Feathers

by HeroMaggie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Style Violence, Fenris is enamored, Fluff, Hawke is a dork, Hawke is a flirt, M/M, Obvious AU is Obvious, anders is clueless, feathers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this Nonny prompt:</p>
<p>"As for prompts...uhm I am terrible at those. Feathers? Someone likes feathers in the bedroom (or just finds them calming)? (I only say this because I have a vase of peacock feathers above my computer and that's the first thing that popped into my head)"</p>
<p>Fenris finds Anders' feathers calming and soothing - and making him wonder if he can have more than just an occasional night and stolen kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mage Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> !So this turned out fluffier and longer than I anticipated - and no smut - which is a surprise. I did work in feathers, though! I hope this works for you

The idea started one day while in Anders' clinic. Lounging on the rickety bed shoved in a back alcove, Fenris had noticed the small pillow wedged into the corner. Embroidered in a language he couldn’t read, it was obvious that the pillow was something special to his mage. He had picked it up, smoothing his hands over the slightly rough stitching, and had pondered the small stains and worn sections.

Anders had come back into the alcove while he had still been holding it. Sitting down next to Fenris, Anders brushed his fingers lightly over the embroidery and told about how this was the last piece he had from his life before the Circle. It had been made by his mother, and he clung to it to soothe and remind him of when he had been loved.

Fenris had put the pillow down and had pulled Anders close, holding him tightly and trying to find the words that would help the hurt. He had stayed, one of the rare nights he spent with his mage. And in the morning, Anders had pulled away and gone to heal and Fenris had felt...alone and bereft. The pillow had sat wedged into its corner and the idea had started taking shape.

The idea had started that day, but implementing it had been an adventure. Feathers from Anders’ coat were easy to come by - he shed them like a molting bird. In fact, his mage was constantly having to replace feathers. They clung in the corners of his clinic, drifted out from under his bed when the wind blew through the clinic windows, and sometimes skittered through campsites when their jobs ended up being over night. Fenris began to gather them.

And it was easy - when his mage was healing, he wasn’t watching Fenris casually nab the loose feathers. And if a few extra ones went missing from his coat, well, he always just assumed it was due to a particularly rough fight or perhaps one of the children he treated.

Brown feathers, black feathers...a few nearly blond like the hair on his mage’s head. Feathers that smelled of elfroot and Anders and soothed Fenris when he was alone in his dilapidated mansion. When his nightmares woke him and he lay gasping for breath, eyes on the stars visible through the broken roof in his room - wishing Anders was next to him.

The pile of feathers grew and soon filled a small pouch and then a small bag...a bag big enough to be a small pillow. Though...the bag seemed poor pillow material. It masked the smell and didn’t remind him of his mage. So the next time he was in Anders’ clinic he stole a tunic. The oldest one Anders’ had - the one with holes under the arms and an unraveling hem. He had shoved the tunic into his breastplate and tried to act nonchalant - shifting and rocking until Anders had told him to come back later.

Tunic in hand, sack of feathers at the ready, Fenris had stopped in the market for needle and thread and had gone home to put his pillow together. A lopsided affair made from greying, thin cotton and filled with a motley assortment of feathers - it was lumpy and the stitches were uneven and it was perfect. Perfect to hold to his face at night, perfect to slide into his pack before overnight trips - when he and the mage just gave each other brief hand strokes before separating into tents. Perfect to drive away the nightmares of Danarius and of the Fog Warriors.

And best of all, small enough to take to the clinic - to leave under Anders’ bed so that it kept the smell of elfroot and magic...smells so typical of Anders. A small talisman, a visible reminder of a man Fenris wanted to keep close...closer than any person he’d ever had before. A man he wanted to pledge himself to - if he could ever find the words.

***

“Come on Fenris,” Hawke’s voice wheedled. “A trip would do you good.”

“Hawke, the last thing I need is a trip to Sundermount.” Fenris groused. “Why not take Aveline?”

“Well, Aveline is busy with the guard, as you well know Fenris. You know how she gets. And while I am perfectly capable of handling the trip there, I’m mildly concerned about this cave we’re going to clear out for the Dalish. They said they had heard moans and screams and Maker knows what else.” Hawke shifted his stance and widened his eyes, the blue going liquid. “I know you hate the Dalish and I know Merrill isn’t your favorite but her clan is being eaten by something and we need another sword besides mine.”

Fenris grumbled. “Fine. Fine...I’ll go with you. Who else is going?”

“Well, the usual. Merrill and Isabela, of course.” Hawke grinned and waggled his eyebrows, making Fenris roll his eyes. “Anders, Varric, and Sebastian.”

“You’re bringing everybody?” Fenris gave Hawke a surprised look. “For what will most likely be a cave full of spiders?”

“It could be spiders or it could be darkspawn or it could be demons...or a dragon...who knows! That’s why I need you, Fenris.” Hawke beamed. “You’re such a good friend.”

Fenris sighed. “Where are we meeting?”

“Hanged Man. Gotta wait for Anders to finish up. I’d send you down there, but I know how you two are. That’s why I invited Sebastian - you know, so you’d have somebody to chat with.” Hawke gave a hum. “Wanna walk with me?”

“Give me a moment to gather my things.” Fenris gritted his teeth, stomping across the house and up the stairs to his room. A glance back showed Hawke prodding a corpse and looking thoughtful. “And don’t mess with my corpses.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Hawke said hesitantly, a bemused smile on his face.

Huffing, Fenris rushed up the stairs to grab his pack, his sword, and the always important pillow. The pillow was shoved into his breastplate, rations, potions, and a change of smalls into his pack; his sword was hefted to his back; and he left. As he jogged back down the stairs, the soothing smell of elfroot drifted up to him from his armor - it made just a hint of a smile touch his lips.

“I knew going out would make you more cheerful. That’s nearly a smile there.” Hawke grinned, moving to the front door. “Right, to he Hanged Man for a drink or two. Or three. You know Anders, one of us will have to drag him from his clinic and we’ll end up out there for two nights instead of one.”

Fenris grunted at that, locking the front door with a key he had found hidden in the pantry that first week he had squatted in what had become his home. Hawke shook his head as the lock snicked into place. “Don’t know why you bother.”

“I do not wish for some itinerant to move in while I am gone. I do not need more corpses.” Fenris’ smile manifested for a whole half a second. “Besides, there is still good wine in that cellar and jewelry in some of the rooms.”

“Why not fix the place up?” Hawke dodged a Guard and then two Hightown matrons, nodding affably at the women and waving to the Guard. The women giggled, the Guard winked. Fenris shook his head. “Well?”

“It is not mine.” Fenris said simply.

“Could be. I’ve got a good in with the Viscount. It’s been sitting empty and just collecting dust.” Hawke moved to walk in front of Fenris, turning around and walking backwards while smiling. “Think of it. A place of your very own. You could finally find a partner. Move them in. Settle down.”

The words caught in Fenris’ throat. The thought of Anders moving in with him...giving his mage a home, a place of safety...made him giddy. He wondered if Anders would like that - to wake up every morning next to him, come home to him every night. He wondered if he dared ask.

He had been courting the mage for a couple months now and in that time they had gone from hesitant kisses to spending the odd night together. No more, no less. Fenris wanted more, wanted to touch and hold, take and be taken. He wanted to watch Anders come apart under his hands and feel himself yield under the gentle pressure of Anders’ fingers. He wanted...but didn’t know how to ask for more, didn’t even know if Anders wished for more.

So when the words burst from him, Fenris could only gape. “I think I might like that.”

“Really?” Hawke had just finished walking down a set of stairs backwards, leering a bit at a young woman as he did. “Wait...are you...interested in someone?”

“Hawke, do not get ahead of yourself. Your idea has merit. What better way to taunt Danarius than to take his mansion and make it mine.” Fenris shook his head when Hawke’s next leer was directed at a handsome young man. “Hawke, you will fall and crack open your skull.”

“Nonsense. I have excellent balance and dexterity - ask Merrill and Isabela.” Hawke was now leering a bit at Fenris, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

Fenris raised an eyebrow and kept silent, watching with interest as Hawke kept walking backwards, negotiating the busy Lowtown market stalls but completely unaware of the small dog that was begging. Hawke reached the dog, stepped back, and pinwheeled his arms as the dog let out a piercing cry of pain - Hawke’s boot heel having caught the tip of the wagging tail.

Hawke went down, the dog took off, and Fenris bent over - a rough chuffing noises coming from him as he tried to reign in his mirth. “Yes, your dexterity and balance is astounding.” The words were spoken evenly, a glint in Fenris’ eye.

“Did I hurt the dog?” Hawke was staring around with wide eyes. “Here puppy, puppy, puppy!”

“Fasta Vass, get up. The dog is fine. You are fine. The market has had a good laugh.” Fenris kicked at Hawke’s leg.

“Seriously….if you see that dog, let me know. I can bring him home. Champ would love a friend.” Hawke stood and gazed around, hope in his face.

“You are worse than the mage and his cat fixation,” Fenris muttered. His ears pinked when he realized what he had just said.

“Cats aren’t real pets.”Hawke said with a shake of his head. “They don’t come with you call, scratch you to show affection, and are finicky eaters. Sounds...rather like you, Fenris.”

“I am not a feline, Hawke.” Fenris huffed in annoyance. “And if you do not cease your foolishness I shall unleash my claws.”

“Oo...scary. Very scary. Not like a cat at all.” Hawke teased, opening the door to the Hanged Man. “Do you threaten your lover like that?”

“What lover?” Fenris asked, outrage on his face.

“The lover you are fixing your mansion up for. I mean...isn’t that why you finally agreed? Or did I catch you at the right moment? You can’t tell me you haven’t been here for as long as you have and not had somebody catch your eye.” Hawke took the stairs to Varric’s room two at a time.

“You are imagining things.” Fenris grouched. “Your own relationship has you wanting to shove others into your shoes.”

“Aww Fenris, I just want you happy. Like I’m happy.” Hawke burst into Varric’s room, threw his arms out, and gave a laugh. “I’m here!”

“Oh goodie. For a minute there I thought I’d get to stay here where my bed is.” Varric gave a harrumph and went back to his parchment.

“Oo...two grumps. Well, I brought Fenris. Now I’ll go down and get ale. Want anything?” Hawke watched Fenris sit down and sprawl in his chair.

“Wine.” The word was succinctly spoken. “Red.”

“Right. So your usual. Varric?”

“Got mine already, Hawke. Go on...let me finish this page. Maker, that man. Hey Broody.” Varric didn’t stop writing, his hand flowing over the page.

“Varric.” Fenris appreciated Varric. The man could tell a good story, knew when to shut up, and made sure Fenris was left alone. He also made sure Anders was cared for - which was important in Fenris’ book.

“Blondie coming with?” Varric was also the only one who knew about them.

“I believe so, yes.” Fenris shifted, glanced at the door, and huffed. “If I was to want to repair my mansion and make sure it is mine…”

“Don’t have to say another word. Hawke can petition for the title and give it to you. And you have the coin to fix it up. You planning on finally pulling Blondie out of Darktown?” Varric put his pen down, a hopeful smile on his face. “Would save me some coin and keep him safer. Andraste’s ass, I’ll even help finance the repairs.”

“I...am.” Fenris shifted. “Do not tell Hawke of Anders, Varric. I have not spoken to my mage and I do not wish...I mean...what if he…”

“Broody, that man is so enamored of you it’s amazing hearts don’t float out of his ass. This might be a good trip to mention it to him - you know, before the ball gets rolling.” Varric pursed his lips and then smiled. “You’ll be glad you got some fresh air once the painters start.”

“Thank you.” Fenris meant the words. He settled back to wait for his wine, wondering just how he was going to mention this to Anders.

***

It was wending into mid-afternoon with Anders showed up looking disheveled and tired. Fenris curled his fingers, telling himself the mage would not appreciate his fussing in front of their friends. Instead he gave a nod and smile, warmth spreading when Anders smiled back.

“Finally. If we’re all ready then…” Hawke stood up, slapping the table.

“Sorry. There was a line and I…” Anders wavered. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll get out there, get some rest tonight, and then tackle the cave nice and early.” Hawke smiled and pulled Merrill and Isabela up. “Well...you all might rest…”

The group groaned, making Isabela and Hawke laugh. Merrill flushed and pinched Hawke’s arm. “You keep that up and I’ll bed down with Varric,” she said with a frown.

“Ah love, I’m sorry. You know my mouth runs off without my brain.” Hawke instantly dropped the joking demeanor and gathered Merrill up.

Merrill cuddled and smiled, smiling wider when Isabela joined in. The group busied themselves gathering up their belongs - the fuss giving Fenris time to sidle over to Anders.

“Are you well enough for this?” His eyes traced over Anders’ face.

“Just tired. I...I wish…” He glanced at the group and sighed. “It’s too bad we’ll be out tonight. This is one of those nights I would want…”

“We could share a tent.” Fenris pointed out.

“I didn’t think you’d want to.” Anders fidgeted. “The group would notice.”

“You never have a tent. You always end up borrowing Isabela’s. Just...stay with me tonight. Please?” Fenris stepped a hair closer, ignoring the group in favor of smiling up at Anders. He was just about to confess wanting to go further when Isabela saw them and whistled.

“You aren’t about to kill him, are you?” The words were said with a laugh. “You look like you’re either going to kill him or kiss him.”

Grinding his teeth together, Fenris stepped back. “I was just checking that our healer would be fine.”

“Oo...worried about Anders?” Hawke joined in the teasing.

Varric rolled his eyes. “Are we leaving or what? Because I could be drinking.”

“Oh...right. Right!” Hawke waggled his eyebrows at Anders. “And...we’re off! I hope it’s not spiders this time. A dragon though...that would be fun.”

The groan let out by the collective group was enough to drown out the chatter in the taproom.

***

It was dusk by the time the group reached the Dalish camp. Hawke went to talk to the Keeper about the cave while the group found a relatively clear spot to start setting up camp. Tents went up and a camp fire was started.

Fenris set his tent up a little ways away from the group - which wasn’t too odd. He was never one to sleep surrounded by people - preferring his privacy because noises kept him awake. Usually, Anders would borrow Isabela’s tent and she would sleep with Merrill and Hawke. But tonight, Fenris gazed at him until the mage wandered to his tent.

“Are you sure?” Anders shuffled. “I didn’t think…”

“I do not mind them knowing, mage. We have been seeing each other for a while now.” Fenris felt his ears flush. It did bother him, but he knew he needed to push past his natural inclination to hide if he wanted more from his mage. “I...I would speak with you later.”

“About?” Anders was obviously expecting the conversation to not be a positive one.

“About..ahh...us.” Fenris could feel the heat in his ears, in his face. “It is not a bad thing.”

Anders opened his mouth and sighed when Hawke called for them. “Well, maybe tell me after whatever it is Hawke wants?”

Fenris simply nodded and followed Anders to the fire, settling down next to him and sighing at Hawke.

“Oh good! All here. According to Marethari, whatever it is happens at dusk - go figure, right? So Anders, good timing on your part. We’ll hit up the cave tonight and then sleep in late tomorrow.” Hawke rubbed his hands together.

“It happens at night?” Anders was plucking at his robe, sharing a look with Merrill. “Have any of the elves been seen going in and out of the cave?”

“Well, they go in…” Hawke said slowly. “They don’t come back out. Which is why we’re needed.”

Merrill cleared her throat. “Ah, has anybody else been seen going into the caves?”

“Oh well, they had some mages from Starkhaven hide out here. Remember how we helped that one bunch? Apparently, a few made it to the camp and have been...what?” Hawke was watching as Merrill and Anders grimaced at each other.

Sighing, Anders stood up. “Well, it’s blood mages. And possibly demons...maybe an abomination.”

“That cave had a shrine in it. An old one. We cleared it of spiders when we moved in.” Merrill said, reaching for her staff.

“What kind of shrine?” Anders had a feeling he knew what kind.

“It looked Tevinter in origin. I didn’t know that then but...you know...we see them all the time in Kirkwall.” Merrill said, her eyes wide.

“Kaffas,” muttered Fenris.

Sebastian had started praying, stopping when Fenris muttered. “Will you be alright in there?” His concern was palpable.

“I shall enjoy tearing it down.” Fenris gritted out.

“I gotta say, Hawke. You always find us the most exciting fights.” Varric added. “Let’s not put this off.”

“Right then. Sooner we get in there the sooner we can get some sleep. Or not...in my case.” Hawke leered at Isabela who laughed.

“Incentive.” She giggled before taking off for the cave. “I’ll scout ahead. Give me to the count of five and follow.”

Five minutes and the group was slinking into the cave. It opened into a wide room and then narrowed so that only two could walk abreast. Following the path led back further into the mountain, the trail slowly dipping down until Anders was grumbling about tunnels and Varric was muttering about how much he hated being underground.

The tunnel broke off every so often into small rooms - rooms that held bones or books, sleeping arrangements and in one instance, cooking utensils. Merrill commented on each room saying that they had been empty when she had last been here. Fenris hung back with Anders and watched as his mage examined the bones, looked over the personal items, and clucked his tongue.

“This doesn’t look good, Hawke.” He whispered.

“Well, they don’t seem too worried about intruders,” Hawke whispered back.

“Right, because they want to funnel us to them,” Anders hissed.

“To do what?” Hawke poked at a basket of tubers

“What do you think? Sacrifice us to a demon…” Anders rolled his eyes, stopping to look at a basket of greenery. “Is that...oh delightful.”

“What?” Isabela had rejoined the group and slid over to look in the basket as well. “Oh look - they have a bunch of deathroot and some deep mushrooms. You thinking what I’m thinking.”

“I’m thinking we try not to touch anything. They’re making poisons.” Anders grumbled. “You really know how to drag us to worst places, Hawke.”

“Mages can make poisons?” Hawke was gazing in surprise at Anders.

“I can brew you a tea that will melt your throat.” Anders said as a reply, stalking from the room.

“He can? Remind me not to accept anymore tea from him.” Hawke rubbed the back of his neck and gave Merrill a smile.

“I can brew that tea too.” She leaned up to press a kiss to Hawke’s chin and followed Anders out.

Isabela chuckled. “Kitten wouldn’t poison you.”

“Maker…” Hawke breathed out, toddling after Isabela. The rest of the group shared a look and then followed.

The tunnel continued down, the walls seeming to curl in around the group before slowly widening into a small room. The far side held a door, a simple wooden affair that had the entire group scratching their heads.

“Definitely wasn’t there before,” Merrill whispered.

“Right,” Hawke said. “We go in, we kill them, we get out. Any questions?”

The entire group shook their heads and readied their weapons. A quick inhale and Hawke kicked in the door, rushing into the room beyond with Fenris.

Right into glyphs of paralysis.

Trapped in a green web of glowing lines, Fenris struggled to break loose. His brands flared, making the glyph pulse strongly and tighten. He groaned at the feeling of constriction. He could hear fighting, feel the pull of the fade in his brands as Anders and Merrill cast - Anders’ magic a cool wash and Merrill’s a hot stab. The twang of bow and crossbow was near constant - Varric and Sebastian yelling out targets. If Isabela was there, she was silent.

There was a wash of heat, a rage demon looming in front of him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. Laughter sounded near him, making his hair stand on end - laughter that ended in a scream and a splash of blood. The rage demon roared and then froze, ice encasing it. A flash of silver and it exploded into a mist leaving Anders standing there.

His mage gave a smile and gestured, hands swiping down and then pulling, and the glyph broke apart under his dispel. Fenris staggered forward into Anders’ arms and clung, panting.

“Are you alright?” Anders’ hands slid over Fenris’ arms, over his breastplate. “Maker...Fenris…”

“I’m fine, mage. Fine. It was just a glyph. It did not hurt me.” Fenris leaned into the touch and shivered. “Familiar. Danarius liked to use those.”

“I have you,” Anders murmured. “You’re safe.”

“I know.” Fenris gazed up into Anders’ eyes and exhaled. “I know.”

There was a shout and then Merrill chuckling. Hawke had finally been released from his glyph and had fallen forward onto his hands. He looked a little singed, possibly from another rage demon, and Anders sighed. “I should go heal our fearless leader.”

“Was it blood mages?” Fenris asked, stepping back.

“Oh yeah. One went abomination and then other two summoned shades and demons. It looks like they’d been sacrificing Dalish for a few weeks.” Anders shook his head. “Terrible thing how the altar was destroyed.”

Fenris cocked his head. “Did you do it?”

“Merrill. She pulled it down with vines. Very impressive.” Anders smiled at Fenris’ grunt. “Let’s get you out of here, yes?”

Fenris opened his mouth to tell Anders to stop fussing, that he didn’t need to be fussed over...and then realized he liked it. That the feeling of Anders’ hand on his arm made warmth blossom in his chest. The pillow nudged against his breastplate, reminding Fenris of things he had to say, things he had to ask, and instead of fussing he simply said, “I would like that.”

***

It was late when Fenris and Anders settled in their tent. The amount of teasing had been minimal. Hawke had been healed and sent to bed with Merrill and Isabela. Varric had simply hummed and cleaned Bianca. Sebastian had sighed, given Fenris a slightly disappointed look, and meandered to his tent while muttering prayers under his breath.

Which had left Fenris and Anders to amble to their tent in peace.

Settled next to each other, Anders worried at the buckles on his coat. Fenris watched out of the corner of his eye, his mage twitching and glancing at the tent opening. “Anders.” Fenris finally said, breaking the silence. “What is it?”

“I just never expected you to want to acknowledge me publicly.” Anders finally confessed. “I wasn’t sure what this even was and...and…”

Fenris turned to face him and huffed. “I need to talk to, mage. I, ah, have an important question and something to show you.”

That made Anders squirm and nodded, skin going a little pale. “Ok...I’m listening.”

Fenris smiled and unbuckled his pauldrons, carefully removing them and placing them in a corner of the tent. Eyes holding Anders’, he unbuckled his breastplate and slowly pulled it away from his chest, nabbing the pillow. With a shy smile, he passed the pillow over to Anders.

Long fingers smoothed over the worn fabric, worrying at it slightly. Anders tilted his head and brought the pillow to his nose, inhaling. “This...this smells like my clinic. And is this my old tunic? The one that went missing?”

Fenris’ ears flushed. “Yes. It is stuffed with feathers from your coat.”

“Feathers...what…” Anders gazed at Fenris.

“When I cannot sleep, when the nightmares overwhelm me, I hold it and think of you. The feathers...they remind me of you. The smell, it helps soothe my fears.” Fenris said haltingly. “I...I got the idea from your mother’s pillow.”

“Fenris,” Anders choked.

“I do not wish to sleep alone. I am having the mansion fixed up. I want you there. With me.”Fenris reached for Anders’ hands. “I want you, Amatus.”

“I’ve wanted you to stay every night,” Anders confessed. “But I thought you didn’t want more. I thought...I’m a mage. Why would he want me?”

“Fool mage,” Fenris whispered, slipping to his knees and moving forward. “My mage is so foolish and blind.”

“Your mage?” Anders’ eyes were wide.

“My mage. Mine.” Fenris agreed before pressing his lips to Anders’. “Live with me. Stay with me. I...I need you with me.”

“It’ll probably save me feathers, huh?” Anders teased, laughing when Fenris knocked him backwards and straddled his hips. “Yes.”

“Mm...mayhap I will get a large feather blanket for the bed.” Fenris teased, leaning down to nuzzle Anders’ neck. “And feather pillows. We can bring them to the clinic so that they will smell like you.”

Laughing, Anders wrapped his arms around Fenris and rolled them, smiling slightly at Fenris’ gasp. “My elf is just as silly as I am.”

“Quite possibly. Do not tell our friends, they would tease.” Fenris reached up to pull Anders’ hair free. Another smile and then Anders was swooping down to kiss Fenris.

At the campfire, Varric hummed under his breath as he polished Bianca. The soft laughs from Fenris’ tent had him smiling. For a moment, his fingers twitched at the thought of writing down what he had heard - and then he let the thought float away. Perhaps this story was best not told.

Nobody would believe him anyway if he said it was mage feathers that captured the heart of a prickly, broody elf.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on Tumblr under Warriormaggie.


End file.
